Oil and Water
by bookwurm23
Summary: Moments after ending her friendship with Severus, Lily grapples with the reasons for her choice and the consequences which accompany it. A brief exploration of why Lily left Severus standing outside of the portrait hole that fateful night.


Lily returned to the common room, the tears that she had been hiding burning a bit in her throat. The firm belief that she had done the right thing was no comfort at all, and at that moment, she almost wished her nature was of a different sort, because this… well, this was _hard_. It was horrible. It was the feeling of ripping a piece of your heart from out of your chest and knowing that it might never be back.

Was any belief, however firm, worth that?

She had lived her whole life on that principle that it was, and to stop now would be a denial of everything she holds truest and most dear. She cannot change her own nature, not even for Sev. She finds, on closer analysis of herself, that the very notion is inconceivable; she could not do such a feat for anyone, even herself.

Now, she is forced to see that his beliefs are like oil, and hers like water. When they were children, none of that had really mattered. She had never questioned whether Sev was her friend, and she had chosen not to believe the mean tales that people told about him in the common room in loud whispers when she passed by. After all, she didn't have to agree with him on everything to be his friend. They'd dealt with differences of opinion – mostly regarding Tuney and, occasionally, Potty's Posse's exploits – and why should this matter be any different? Sev didn't often mention blood purity, and it didn't seem to matter when they were together. He never talked about dark magic with her, she was always pretty clear that she didn't like it. It wasn't too difficult to ignore those major problem areas most of the time, and their friendship was able to continue on just as it always had around those little points of contention. Besides, she had told herself, he surely wasn't as bad as her friends liked to whisper. It was pretty clear that they didn't much like him; after all, they didn't know him like she did.

It was hard to believe that he would do malicious things to people for being a "mudblood" when he treated _her_ just as he always had, and clearly valued their friendship. It wasn't hard, during her first three and a half years, to tell herself that the stories were exaggerated. It was easier to think that the rumors were wrong rather than that her best friend was a terrible hypocrite for calling her friend even as, behind her back, he hexed others of her same "condition". She had never once caught Sev doing something like that, after all, and he never talked about it.

Eventually, her friends left the topic of Snape alone, if only to preserve the peace. The outcome was always that Lily would defend her friend firmly to the end, no matter how outnumbered she was, and most often she would end the conversation by angrily stomping away. She loved her friends, but she had always thought that they just didn't understand Sev like she did. Stupid Potter, of course, never left the topic alone beginning in fourth year, but she'd been practicing the subtle art of ignoring him for the past four years, and tuning him out was only getting easier with every day that passed.

Now, however, she could no longer deny what was before her eyes. So gradually that she almost hadn't noticed it, he had had become almost… tainted. When he was hanging out with Mulciber and Avery, he seemed to have this terrible sneer attached to his face which made her feel sick. He started to talk about "after Hogwarts" with excitement, as though there weren't a war brewing and terribly dark times ahead. It frightened her when he said things like "I can't wait to get out of here and actually learn something useful." He dropped the subject alarmingly rapidly when she reminded him about the potions they were learning, the incredible usefulness of some charms, the importance of their various classes. She wasn't sure if she was more disturbed that he didn't argue or elaborate his point – a favorite pastime of his which normally took up most of their conversations together – or that he felt that way in the first place. He didn't explicitly say what he wanted to do when he left, and she was terrified to ask, a fact which she could admit to herself only now.

While she was no fan of Potty's Posse – though she could generally stand Remus, as long as he wasn't around them – the true malice and hatred which burned in his black eyes at the mere mention of them and which was beginning to border on obsession was alarming.

Now that she was looking back on the past five years, she saw her own internal hypocrisy. The fact of the matter was, since she had become a prefect she could no longer deny some of the terrible things that she _knew_ Sev was involved in, which she knew he willingly and even eagerly took part of; she could no longer stand by and allow him to do these things as though she didn't care that he hexed people in the halls because they – like herself – had been misfortunate enough to be born into a muggle family. She had been saying little things all of this year about how he needed to stop, but the mere mention of the subject brought up a surly scowl and a nearly instant comparison between himself and Potter, as though being better than that show off meant his behavior was any less reprehensible. Rather than consider what she was saying, he brushed it aside and changed the topic; behind her back, his behavior was even worse.

Today… well, today had only been the last straw on the camel's back, the little push that she needed to force her out of complacency. She was very hurt that he, of all people, had called her something so terrible; but that wasn't what made her most angry, and it wasn't what made her leave him there, standing alone outside of Gryffindor common room. It was the realization that, although he considered her an exception, the general rule that he apparently believed to be the case – that "mudbloods" were subhuman – was a belief that every fiber of her being (including her blood, she thought bitterly) had to reject. And like oil and water, their two beliefs couldn't peacefully coexist; unlike the simplicity of mixing black and white to create grey, to attempt combining the oil and water would lead only to disappointment and failure. Both she and he could not be right, that would be a contradiction; either all human beings had dignity, muggles or not, or they didn't. She didn't want to live in a world where the latter was the case, she refused to.

When her Christmas months had been filled with a fear that her family would be targeted simply because she had been born with magic, she could no longer deny that the time for action and for choosing sides was looming ominously on the horizon. She had chosen her side, the _right_ one; she couldn't overlook the fact that Severus was choosing its opposite – the _wrong_ side – any longer. Her father had taught her that standing by when someone did something wrong was almost as bad as doing that thing yourself. She could no longer stand by and look away when Severus did such terrible things as though she thought that the actions themselves – and the justifications behind them – weren't terribly evil.

No matter how much she wanted to deny it, Sev was already choosing his course, and it was a road which she would not – _could_ not – travel with him. She had to choose her way too, and she'd be damned – maybe literally – if she took the easier course in spite of the _right_ one. She knows – she thinks he knows too – that she would welcome him back with open arms if only he told her he wouldn't do dark magic anymore, that he thought that all people were inherently _valuable,_ no matter who their ancestors are. Really, although she's the one walking away from the portrait hole, he's the one walking away from their relationship, leaving her there alone.

Despite the knowledge that she was _right_ and the decision that for this belief she would fight to her dying breath, resolutions which coursed through her blood and made her heart pump faster – she loved him, and she felt a piece of her dying as she saw his heart wrenching expression in her mind's eye. A sob wrenched out of her throat.

She could still see the real Sev in there, the little boy who was still struggling to grow up under the harsh oppression of a difficult family life and terrible loneliness. She still saw his passionate desire to invent new potions and spells, still sometimes saw his eyes light up when they laughed together about something or when he was explaining a marvelous new idea to her about what might happen if one used the roots of the asphodel instead of the petals or what might happen if one combined a certain wand movement with certain words. She loved the way he would become absolutely still, as though all of his energy was being focused into his eyes and his words, which were suddenly lively and quick, as though all he wanted to say couldn't be conveyed fast enough and any extraneous movement would only be a distraction.

If Severus wasn't willing to change – and he wasn't, she could read it in those guarded eyes, in that silent mouth which couldn't tell her the truth – then their path was clear. She wanted the best for him, wanted him to be happy, but she couldn't force him to join her, and she could no longer ignore the fact that their two beliefs simply couldn't mix, and that she was not helping him by remaining silent as though she approved of what he was doing. He was sorry for calling _her_ mudblood, but not sorry for the ideology behind it; how could she forgive the one without forgiving the other? It was impossible.

She threw herself into her favorite armchair and allowed herself to consider her life without him, forced herself to accept the worst possible consequences: that he might never turn back from the dark road he was traveling and that he might destroy himself, leaving her behind him forever. Luckily, there was no one in the common room at this time of night, so she curled herself up and cried, feeling lonelier than she ever had in her whole life.


End file.
